KarMel Scholarship - This is Me

“This specimen is one of the best I’ve seen,” the nurse proclaimed with a big smile after studying him under a microscope.

“Good specimen? You are talking about sperm. What does that even mean?” I asked her incredulously.

“Highly concentrated, 70% survival rate post thaw, and fantastic motility. Really, you made an excellent choice.”

“Ok, but still what does all of that mean?”

“Well, we like to see at least 30% of the field filled with active sperm and your specimen has more like 80%. That’s fantastic. We generally lose about half of them when they thaw out, but we only lost 30% and the ones that made it are really moving. Energetic and speedy little swimmers! This is definitely one the best specimen I have seen.”

“Hmmm. last month the bank was sold out of him. They told me he was a ‘top seller’ and hard to keep in stock, so now I guess I know why!” I had to laugh out loud. ‘This is insane,’ I thought to myself as I laid naked from the waist down, feet up in the stirrups, staring at the liquid nitrogen tank that was the most recent home to Mr. B677.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had tried to bond five minutes before while alone in the room with my little thawing tube of ‘frozen pop’. Picking up the vial, I studied the little milky ice cube in the bottom. “So you’re the daddy, huh?” I asked. Needless to say, it didn’t respond. I set him back gently on the counter and decided I needed his photo for the sake of posterity. He was strategically positioned next to a container of Q-tips, so his size could be proportionately understood. Instead of the saying the customary CHEESE! while firing off a couple shots from my digital camera I said, “This is so one day, I can show my baby who it’s daddy was.”

Now with nothing to do but wait, panic began to set in yet again as the reality of the situation took hold. All alone, I was about to be artificially inseminated. Partnerless, I was doing everything in my power to get pregnant (well, pretty much everything, lol!). I had waited so long hoping to find the perfect partner to start a family with, wanting to make sure I was financially stable and that my career was solid. I have accomplished all but the partner. That hurts more than I have words for. I wanted to create a family and not just a baby. I wanted to give it two loving moms. But that part didn’t work. I thought Ann was forever, but that ended 3 months ago. Regardless, I will be 40 this summer and am losing an egg a month. When Ann and I split I realized it was now or never. So here I am.

Soon Mr. B677 would be inside going to town and there would be no reversing the process. God willing, he would find his mark, and I would be on my way to motherhood - filling that void that had existed in my soul for as long as I could remember. But alone! Could I really do it? Could I afford it?

Granted, I had just bought us a home big enough for you to have your own bedroom, but the mortgage was killing me. My high school teaching job was steady. I was making more money than I had for the 17 years I had been in the profession. I had worked hard professionally to set myself up to move out of my English classroom and into school administration. My resume is strong. I just need to go through the year and a half program at the University to get the right licensure. And that is well in the works. Then I will be eligible for a job change/promotion and more income. But would it be enough? Could I handle the costs of medical insurance, diapers, daycare, clothes, a crib… and what about the cell phone, car and college education that were looming on your horizon! What am I doing?

Surfing the net and reading donor profiles had been easy and fun. No redheads or blonds. I wanted someone with dark hair like me. Proportional height and weight. And good teeth… a beautiful smile is huge, and I won’t be able to pay for braces. Oh yeah, no hunters or gun enthusiasts either!

Finding an affordable doctor who was willing to inseminate a lesbian and a single one at that was much harder, but I managed. Three had had gotten a little ‘iffy’ when I said I was single and then flat out refused when I told them I was homosexual. I was even lucky enough to get an ethics and morality lecture from one of them! I can’t believe there is still so much open prejudice in the world. What gives some man or woman the right to decide whether or not I can bring a child into this world? I could have lied about my sexuality, but this needed to be 100% aboveboard. I refuse to pretend to be someone I’m not while I do the most important thing in my life.

All the pre-insemination ultrasounds were strange, but exciting. I was expecting the gooey gel on my tummy, but found out they are done internally nowadays. Wow. A little shocker, but childbearing, I think, causes modesty to fly out the window so what the heck. I met my ovaries and uterus and watched my follicles grow. I realized that there really is more than gray and white ‘snow’ in those ultrasound pictures that they print out.

But now… now the egg is on its way out, heading for my fallopian tubes and I am about to add the missing half of the cocktail. What am I doing?

Glancing around, I noticed the blue padded chair in the corner. That’ll work, I thought, as I dropped to my knees in front of it, clasping my hands together. I closed my eyes and said quietly aloud,

“God. I am scared – terrified actually. I trust you though. You know my soul and you know what is right for me. I have to turn this over to you. I miss Ann and want her back so much, but I need to separate that from this. She made it clear all four years that she wouldn’t raise another child since she already had her three. I know we are apart for other reasons, but I want to believe we still might find a way someday. Doing this may mean that she will never come back, and that terrifies me. It is still what I know I need to do though. I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t try. I need to be a mom and love a child. Besides any partner who truly loves me, will love my baby as well. Right…? Oh no, does this choice mean I won’t ever have another partner? Oh, God I am starting to freak out again. Please help me. Guide this process and let your will be done. I trust you.”

Then with a deep breath, I rose, wiped the tears from my eyes and picked up the donor long profile I had been handed moments earlier by the nurse. I hadn’t read it yet and didn’t really care what the paper contained. I decided to purchase it from the sperm bank anyway along with B677, so I could answer the questions that would inevitably come later. My lack of interest was intentional. I had specifically chosen the anonymity and facelessness of my sperm.

“My” sperm… how many women can say that!

Anyway, I didn’t want to run into ‘daddy’ at the grocery store or walking down the street. Didn’t want him to have my name or face either. Didn’t want him to fall in love with my precious angel and decide he needed to help parent. Selfish, I guess, but my right! I do want my child to have another parent, but another mom. And one that I am in love with, that loves me and loves our baby.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So the nurse is back, praising me on my donor choice and explaining the actual insemination process. Something about the speculum, a catheter and elevating my hips for 10 minutes. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to make sense of any of it.

In truth, it was a lot like a gynecological exam. Sterile. Businesslike. Impersonal. After inserting the speculum, she located my cervical opening and cleaned it. Then she inserted the catheter while explaining that she couldn’t use KY jelly because sperm had trouble swimming through it. Gross image! The lack of lubricant caused a little pain as the 5 inch plastic catheter with the approximate circumference of a coffee stirrer was pushed through my cervix and into my uterus. Next, she injected the sperm up the catheter and into my womb. I expected to feel something, but honestly other than mild discomfort, there was nothing. No magic.

Then she propped my hips up and told me to stay in that position and she would be back to get me in ten minutes. Having nothing else to do, I decided to read the long profile. I already knew the basics. B677 had brown hair and blue eyes, was 6’1 175lbs, and of Austrian and Hungarian descent. Most importantly though he had clean genes! Three generations worth. I was careful to screen out heart problems (like my father) and cancer (like my grandmother) while finalizing my selection.

Unfolding the profile, the first thing I noticed was that it was handwritten. That was immediately followed by the realization that his handwriting was atrocious! It was kind of interesting to see it though. It made him more real than he had been to me. He became a real person who held a pen, not just the white stuff in that vial. Most of what I read was more detailed information regarding his medical history. Apparently his dad has a spinal problem, but it isn’t genetic. Both grandparents on his mother’s side died by their early sixties of complications caused by smoking. Again, not genetic. An aunt has been diagnosed with breast cancer and that is a bit of a concern, but pretty normal for this day and age. Other than that everyone is healthy and living well into old age. I was pleased to see that every member of his immediate family has blue eyes. Mine are hazel and I have always thought they looked like muddy canal water. I think dark hair and blue eyes are so pretty (oops, or handsome) together.

Toward the end of the form, he was asked a few short answer questions. Despite being given about ten lines to answer on, he only used up one to two per question. I think that says something about him, but I am not sure what.

The first question asked his motivation for donating. He said he needed money for school (not so noble, but truthful at least!) and that he wanted to help people who wanted children (there we go, that’s better). When asked to describe his character and personality he chose only three words – but three good ones: gregarious, honest and sensitive. I love that answer, especially the sensitive part. If I had met a man like that (who was also handsome and intelligent, of course) maybe I wouldn’t be gay. Forget it, who am I kidding? Lol! For hobbies and interests, he listed painting, camping, architecture, traveling, photography and nature. Ok, he’s outdoorsy, artistic and into learning new things. I like that.

Finally, the one that just cracked me up… the message he wanted to send on to the recipient of his semen. I quote, “It is creative and friendly and comes from an inteligent background.” Ahhhh, were to start. IT is creative and friendly. What is he talking about? Himself in third person – kinda scary? Or the semen - creative and friendly sperm? Does that mean all those millions of tiny guys are inside me swimming around and socializing, clinking microscopic beer mugs while writing poetry?!?! Sounds like I am hosting one hell of a party! But the best part is the inteligent background. Come on already, there are some words you just shouldn’t write if you can’t spell them! Fortunately, I know spelling is not indicative of intelligence, so I am not worried about this. Amused, but not worried!

Other than that there were just a few miscellaneous extra facts. He is pursuing his Master’s Degree in Architecture. Has traveled to Asia and Africa. Apparently dabbled a little in pot smoking while in college, but nothing habitual (Thank God!). Once got a woman pregnant, in real life, but that didn’t result in childbirth. His specimen samples have been fertile and have resulted in at least one successful artificial insemination. In addition to German and Hungarian, he is Dutch and English. Had a pierced lip and a pierced eyebrow at one point in his life. Has never had any venereal diseases and occasionally participates in anal sex with his girlfriend. UGH… what! I really didn’t need to know that. And neither will my child!

All in all, I feel that I made an excellent selection. Smart or at least educated, sensitive, outdoorsy, athletic, outgoing, artistic, adventurous … that will work. At least I hope they will get the job done because I am eager as hell and have already spent about $2,000 dollars on the process – progesterone and fertility testing, etc… The specimen alone cost $260 and I had to buy three: two to try to bracket the ‘window’ when the egg was out and then an extra because there was a chance we had still missed it. And of course with each I had paid for an insemination procedure. The doctor gave me a break on one, but it was still a lot.

Spermwise, I have to admit I was very surprised by how little I got for my money. Each specimen came in a tiny tube the size of a perfume sample vial and even then was only about a quarter full – about the equivalent of a pencil eraser! Granted it has been a very long time, but from what I remember the average um… output was significantly greater in volume than that. I thought I’d be getting the full shot for a couple hundred bucks not just a sectioned off portion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The nurse came back in and asked if I had any cramping or discomfort. I had neither. She told me I had bled a little while the catheter was being pushed through my cervix , gave me a panty liner, said I could go ahead and get dressed and that I was free to go. She told me to call when I knew something and then with a final wish good luck she was gone.

Driving home I kept expecting to feel something. Nothing though. I knew they were in there swimming around, but my body felt the same. Emotionally, I felt different though. Much calmer. I had given it to God, the sperm was at work, the process was not reversible, I had done what I had been wanting to for as long as I could remember and now it was out of my hands. Oddly, I found comfort in that. If it was meant to be, it would be. The same for Ann, if we were truly meant to be, a baby would not keep that from happening. I felt a peace in my soul.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tomorrow will be March 11^th… D-day if you will. Blood or no blood.

I just went the bathroom and noticed a pinkish discharge. Not a good sign. My heart feels shattered. Yes, I have wavered between excited and scared all month, but I was just sure it had worked. I guess we will see.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Damn it. I am regular to a fault and sure enough woke up with my period. I feel so broken. I don’t know how to feel or what to make of it. I triple-dosed the sperm, three separate inseminations, and was sure I hit the egg window. And it didn’t work? I had given it over to God and was trusting that he would guide that the right thing happened. Does this mean then that I am not supposed to have a child? That all these years my gut instincts have been wrong? That I should stop planning the colors of the nursery and looking at baby clothes? That the college fund I am trying to create is in vain? It can’t be.

Maybe it isn’t a sign. Everyone told me there was no guarantee it would work on the first try, but I just knew I was different because it was meant to be… because I wanted it so much… because it was so planned and premeditated… because I had covered all my bases. Aw hell, who I am kidding? What makes me more worthy of a child than couples who try for years with no success, than all the infertile wanna-be moms in the world. I am nobody special. Desire doesn’t equal babies not even coupled with 100% effort.

But…some healthy, fertile women do need up to six tries before it works. Maybe I will try again just one more time. Give it all I have and see if it is in the stars for me.

Ugh, the money though. I definitely can’t continue for six months. I don’t even know where all the money needed for one more try would come from. Honestly, I had spent most of my savings already. And I have to go back to school this summer so that I make more money at work and can provide a good life for the two of us. What a Catch 22. I need money to go to school to make money to support the baby that I need money to create! I will find a way. I have been tutoring 10 hours a week on top of my regular job to help and that is ending, but I will find more work. I can find a way. I won’t let money stop me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alright it is Thursday, March 29^th.

I am in the waiting process again. Won’t be able to take a pregnancy test for thirteen more days. The 11^th again. I was inseminated only twice this time: last Friday and Saturday. Got the same donor, B677, again. He really is a hot ticket. They were out of him early in the month, but were releasing two samples from quarantine the day before I needed them. I tried to order them in advance, but the bank’s policy doesn’t allow that. Instead, I sat by my phone anxiously ready to dial at 8:00 am to insure no one got to him first. I didn’t have a second choice picked out and felt oddly connected to this one after last month. I was in that weird panic mode like when you are trying desperately to get the best concert seats from Ticket Master! It worked though and I picked up the big metal liquid nitrogen tank that held the precious cargo.

This time the doctor did it instead of the nurse. I asked a lot of questions because I really wanted to know why last month didn’t work. I learned some amazing stuff… First of all, I am not getting ripped off with my little, tiny tube of ‘liquid gold’. It is such a small amount because the sperm is centrifuged away from most of the semen, thus creating a ultra-concentrated shot. That’s supposed to increase the likelihood of conception because they have less gunk to swim through.

As for why it didn’t work… he had no concrete answer, but wasn’t daunted or surprised. He told me that it takes probably a half million – half million!- sperm to inseminate an egg. Yow. Of course, I wanted to know how many were in each of the vials and it was 50 million apiece! So at one point 100 million sperm were alive and kicking inside of me. That is a huge number. I can’t even comprehend it.

Apparently the egg has a coating around it that the sperm must break through. As each one hits, it breaks through a teeny bit of the coating and makes a little divot. Enough of them have to hit the same spot to finally get through to the actual egg. No wonder it takes so many. Then the lucky one who is bringing up the rear hits the mother lode. This may be the only time in life when the guy who gets there last comes in first! The whole idea of the hundreds of thousands of sperm battering the lonely egg sounds more like a battle than the beauty of creation, but it is still amazing.

Somehow last month I was under the impression that if just one little sperm found the egg then conception would occur. They would bump into each other and all would be done. Part of my frustration came from this inaccurate perception. Believing I only needed one to make it, I couldn’t believe it didn’t happen. I had three separate inseminations with plenty of sperm and not even one of them could find the egg. I figured they had to be stupid or damn lazy.

I felt better understanding what actually needs to occur.

Also this time, I got to look at them under a microscope and that was crazy. There were tons of them in just one miniscule section of one tiny drop! And the nurse was right, they are speedy little swimmers. They were zipping around all over the place. I did make a good choice.

The process was the same, yet somehow it felt a little different this time. It seemed slower and like there was a better chance of success. I still didn’t feel any magic happen, but did cramp up and feel weird inside. Maybe that’s a good sign. I am sure my optimism is unfounded and I am just being wishful. It is probably just based on hope or I because I understood so much more this time. But who knows?

How about Jordan for a girl? For a boy, I really like the name Ransom, but it doesn’t flow well with my last name. Maybe Timothy, Nicholas, or Michael.